


A Long Quiet River

by HermineKurotowa



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt Jensen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7599754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermineKurotowa/pseuds/HermineKurotowa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen meets Jared in unluckiest circumstances - as a kidnap victim. But who is the kidnapper?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Quiet River

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [wipbigbang](http://wipbigbang.livejournal.com/). This was my first fanfic EVER. I wrote it in 2012 in German; it's three parts, totally fleshed out and half of them written (in German). _A Long Quiet River_ is the first part and can be read as a stand-alone. I always wanted to re-write it in English, but never got the guts to do it. Then, this challenge came along :)
> 
> Before you ask: I plan on writing the other parts, too, of course. Only - it will take a while; please be patient :)
> 
> A whole bunch of love for my brillaint artist [amberdreams](http://amberdreams.livejournal.com/), who made me different versions of her art, and I still don't know which one I like best. Maybe all of them. ❤ Go [here ](http://amberdreams.livejournal.com/425107.html)and leave admiration. And since she's all around brilliant, she also betaed this fic. Also love to my other beta, [jj1564](http://jj1564.livejournal.com/), my trusted friend, who always sorts out my verbal mess so very gracefully. ❤

 

 

 

When Jensen wakes up, there is a smell like earth and fish. No, not fish – sea. Like salt and flowers; like the soap his mother used to use.

A smell like earth, salt and lavender.

He thinks about opening his eyes.

His head hurts, and he's nauseous deep down in his guts. He'll have to throw up if he opens his eyes, so he keeps his eyes closed and tries remembering instead.

He knows he went to the electronics store and bought a new phone. He knows that he stood in the parking lot to take a closer look at the new features on the phone. He knows that he stood in front of his car and texted with his phone for the first time and that he'd intended to get into his car and go to his brother's for dinner.

But did he actually get in? Did he go to his brother's? He can't remember that.

Maybe he already had dinner with Bennett and got sick? Food poisoning? An accident on route, and now he is in the hospital? No, it is not a hospital; it is too cool, and it smells of earth, salt and lavender, not of hospital.

Eventually, he opens his eyes.

Jensen can't make out much in the more than semi-darkness; the only light comes through a narrow window high beneath the ceiling. He fights the nausea trying to rise with every movement, and when he's victorious, he feels the headache all the more.

He is in a basement-like room on a dirty mattress on the floor.

Sitting up gingerly, he notices that he is wearing only jeans and a t-shirt – no shoes, no coat.

There is a metallic clank when he unsuccessfully tries to stand.

A chain.

An iron chain, connecting his left ankle with the wall behind him.

An iron chain, keeping him very effectively in the room.

A fucking _iron chain_.

He can't believe it. How did he end up here? _Where_ did he end up?

Rustling draws his attention to the darkness on the other side of the room. Someone is hidden – is hiding in there. Jensen looks intently; indeed, there is a person sitting in a chair, watching in silence.

Connecting the dots makes his mouth go dry.

Headache, basement, shackles. A watcher. _Fuck_ , that's not good at all.

The person in the dark stands and approaches him. Stopping just shy of Jensen, they look down on him – a gigantic shadow, barely discernible. They're just standing there, looking down on Jensen silently.

Jensen squirms under the scrutiny. He doesn't know where he is, what happened, what will happen.“Who are you? What do you want with me?“ he asks, and his voice is hollow and scared.

The stranger squats down and touches Jensen's cheek softly with cold fingers.

Jensen flinches. “What do you want with me?“ he asks again. His voice gains sharpness.

“You,“ the stranger replies, “I want you.“

The voice reminds Jensen of cold steel, and he has the faint impression that the other guy may be drugged, though it sounds different when someone's high.

Jensen's thoughts are racing away with him.

Who is this stranger, what could he want with Jensen? Is he a serial killer or a crazy guy hopped up on drugs hoping to get money for his addiction?

The chain clanks when Jensen tries to scramble away, but he doesn't get far. It is quite short, and the shackle cuts into his ankle.

“If you're after ransom, I don't have any. I'm not wealthy, neither are my family. You've the wrong guy.“

Again, the stranger is reaching out with his hand, though stopping his fingers an inch before Jensen's skin. Coldness is emanating from them – a coldness that makes Jensen's flesh crawl, hearing, “I want you. You're so gorgeous.“

Jensen breathes heavily. Is this a nightmare?

“But... but...“ he says, and then the stranger is on him, holding his head with both hands and pressing his lips on Jensen's.

For a few seconds, Jensen's whole body stiffens; all thoughts drop out of his head, and he holds his breath. Then he shoves for all he is worth against the other guy's chest.

Their lips part, and the stranger punches him so violently in the face that his head hits the wall behind him.

The darkness surrounding Jensen grows blacker; the scent of lavender and salt blankets him, and he knows nothing more.

 ❖❖❖

 It is again the scent that he notices first: the earthy scent, then the coldness around him.

Jensen moans; the headache hammers, his mouth feels like it is filled with sand, and his jaw hurts where the stranger's fist hit him. He sits up gingerly, not opening his eyes until he is vaguely vertical.

He still is in the basement-like room, on the same dirty mattress. There is a little bit more light coming through the small window, but still, most of the room is in darkness.

Jensen concentrates on breathing evenly and not throwing up. Though he wants to avoid them, thoughts are surfacing.

Fuck, how did he get into this? Who is this guy?

He didn't dream the man; the iron chain and the pain in his head are proof enough that he didn't dream. What kind of nutcase does this? Kidnapping people, chaining them to the wall and... Oh God. _I want you_. Oh God. Holy Fuck.

Jensen remembers the guy from the papers, who had been missing for a week. He saw the picture, but thought nothing of it. He doesn't have friends yet, doesn't know anyone in this town yet, except for his brother Bennett and his lovely wife Lisa, and his future boss, who happens to be an old friend.

He jumps to unpleasant conclusions. Is it possible that the missing guy was in this basement, too? Raped, murdered, disappeared? Will the same happen to him?

 _I want you_. Holy shit.

Jensen feels panic rising in his guts, but before he gets overwhelmed, he hears someone moaning.

In the darkest corner of the room, behind the chair the stranger was sitting on, there is someone on the floor. The rustling and scratching on the wall sounds like the other person is sitting up.

That must be another captive, someone Jensen can ally himself with. He wants to go to him, but the chain reminds him clangingly that he can't.

“Is anybody there?“ a brittle voice says from the other corner of the room.

“Yes,“ Jensen croaks. He can't manage more; just this word worsens the pounding in his head. Closing his eyes, he concentrates on breathing through the pain.

When he re-opens them, there is someone sitting in front of him.

A lean outline with longish dark hair is all Jensen can make out in the darkness. The guy's skin is luminously pale, making his eyes look almost black in contrast. He supports himself on the floor, looking like he may crumble down any moment.

“So he caught another one,“ the man mutters. It just seems to be a thought spoken aloud.

“Who?“ Jensen asks.

“The big guy keeping me here. Sometimes he comes, brings water and food. What day is it?“

Jensen thinks. “Probably Thursday already. What's your name?“

“Thursday... fuck, a whole week.“

The man slides down to the floor, as if his arms were not strong enough to keep him up. He is lying on the floor and utters a sound like a stifled sob.

“My name's Jensen. What's yours?“ Jensen asks.

“Jared. I'm Jared,“ the other one replies, his voice laced with desperation.

A whole week. Jensen knows who this guy is, remembers the kind eyes he saw in the newspaper's picture.

How will he feel in a week from now, where will he be? _No_ , he can't think like that. Jensen's brother will find him; Bennett is the best at his job. He won't give up, he'll find him, find them both.

“A whole week,“ Jared repeats tearfully. “Since last Wednesday. I've been here for a whole week. Why did he do this? What's he up to? Why's no one looking for me? Are there no traces? Are they still looking for me at all?“

Jared sobs.

Crawling as far as his fetters let him, Jensen tugs and pulls until Jared's upper body rests in his lap. Jared is sobbing uncontrollably.

“It's okay,“ Jensen says gently, “they're looking for you. I saw your picture in the newspaper. They're looking for you. You'll see, my brother'll find us. He's a cop, he's the best cop of the whole city. He'll find us.“

Jensen is cradling the desperate man, petting his hair to calm him and thinking of when he last held someone like this.

Jared is warm, though he is ought to be chilled due to the long time in the basement. His hair is smooth, and he smells like earth and sweat. Surely, he should smell a lot worse after a week of captivity.

 _I want you_.

Jensen opens his mouth and speaks without thinking.

“Does he let you shower?“

The sobbing stops. After some hesitation, Jared replies, “No. Why're you asking?“

How shall Jensen tell him? Then he just blurts it. “Your hair's just washed.“

The reply is silence.

“You just said that he brings food and water?“

The silence is getting louder.

“Maybe... well, maybe he drugs you? With some drugs in the water? Or maybe...“

Jared breathes in sharply. One of his hands is creeping up slowly to cover his mouth.

“Oh god. But I have to sleep. I wake up not knowing what happened. I wouldn't notice... I wouldn't notice if...“

Suddenly, he turns away from Jensen, gagging. Kneeling on the floor, he tries to throw up his fear and loathing, but he is only dry heaving.

Jensen wants to put his hand on Jared's back to calm him, but he's too far away. He only reaches Jared's side, so he pets him there as best he can, talking soothing nonsense.

Eventually, Jared turns to Jensen, holding fast onto him; his head leaning against Jensen's chest, arms embracing Jensen's body as closely as if he wanted to break him in two.

Jared 's crying is unrestrained.

Jensen holds him in his arms, trying to not break down himself and keeps on talking until both of them fall asleep, clinging together like drowning men.

 ❖❖❖

 This time it is Jensen's stomach that wakes him up, rumbling loud and protesting.

The headache has eased some; a weak threat compared to the forceful attack from before. Now though, his left leg hurts, cramped into an uncomfortable angle while he slept; his back is complaining about the hard mattress, and his bladder is in danger of bursting. Jared's head is still resting on Jensen's chest; his hair smells like shampoo.

Jensen feels pity for his fellow captive. He appears younger than Jensen, and who knows what he went through in the last week?

Drugged, maltreated, probably misused – at the very thought Jensen feels cold fury. If he gets ahold of the asshole who did this to both of them; he is not a violent person, but the thought of killing their abuser in the heat of the moment doesn't worry him much, oddly enough.

Jared is breathing evenly, and Jensen keeps on holding him; he doesn't want to wake him – when sleep is the only thing keeping them safe from their thoughts and the cold.

It's a long time since he last had this much physical contact with anyone, man or woman. It took him months to get over his last, nasty break-up, and since he is not the outgoing type, there weren't many possibilities to meet another partner.

In different circumstances, Jensen possibly would have made a pass. He likes tall men, and Jared is very tall.

But here, in this basement, in the dark, the only thing he can think about is how to get rid of the chain around his ankle and get both of them out of here. It is up to him now since Jared seems to be mentally and emotionally unfit to escape.

On one end, the iron chain is attached to the wall; the other end is fastened to the tight shackle; in between are shining, cold links that give him maybe six feet of room to move.

The light is a shade brighter; maybe it's noon outside but who can tell in the constant twilight? Whatever the time of day, the part of the room opposite to Jensen is always dark, the lonely chair and a door in the wall vaguely perceptible.

There's nothing else in the basement except for darkness and two desperate men.

Jared is stirring, slowly opening his eyes and looking at Jensen. Then he flinches and cowers down just outside of Jensen's reach, staring at him, a hand covering his mouth with shock.

“Oh God,“ he stammers, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I've never...“

Jensen moves his legs – now relieved of a heavy burden – into a more comfortable position. He massages his left leg that is still hurting.

“It's okay,“ he says, “no harm done.“

He gives Jared a small, crooked smile.

Jared's eyes grow wide. He drops his hands to the ground and clenches his fists.

“You're chained.“ His voice is seething with rage. “Why did he chain you? That asshole.“

Jensen almost says, _You're not_ , but it is only a fleeting thought since he needs to ask something more important. And besides, who can comprehend a madman's thoughts?

“Uhm, at the moment there's an urgent necessity I'd need to take care of.“ Jensen's blushing just a bit. “What do you do when you have to, well, pee?“

Without a word, Jared stands and walks into the darkness behind the chair, bringing back a bucket that he puts down next to Jensen. He turns away discreetly when Jensen relieves himself, and then Jensen gives Jared the same courtesy. After peeing in the bucket, Jared returns it back to the farthest corner.

Jared sits cross-legged on the floor in front of Jensen who is leaning against the wall. Neither man looks at the other – Jared is paying attention to his knees, Jensen to his hands resting in his lap.

When the silence turns awkward, Jared starts speaking

“Why are you so sure that your brother will find us?“

“He's the damned best cop of the city. And all my life, he looked out for me; he'll keep on and on until he finds me.“

“Let's hope he's in time,“ Jared says, his face gloomy.

“Hey,“ Jensen replies, resting a hand on Jared's arm. “Hey, look at me. The bastard has something in mind for us, otherwise we'd already be dead. But my brother will find us in time. I know it. Bennett'll find us.“

Jared is looking at him for a moment, his eyes tearing up. He sniffles, then says, “Okay.“

Jensen smiles at him encouragingly, glad to have offered Jared some hope, even though it might be unfounded. He doesn't want to tell Jared the truth, how he fears their situation is worse than he is letting on.

 ❖❖❖

“So, how do you earn your money?“ Jared asks.

They sit side by side on the dirty mattress, leaning against the wall. Jared plays with the seam of his shirt; Jensen notices he is wearing jeans and socks, but no shoes.

“Next week, I start a new job – a graphic designer at an advertising company. That's why I just moved here. Bennett living here is great because I don't know anybody yet – apart from Chad – he's my future employer. We took classes together at college. He’s had no time to keep up our friendship, he’s got so much work on. That's why he hired me - his business is thriving.“

“Chad Murray? He designed the business cards and stationery for my shop. No wonder that he needs more employees, the man is really good at what he does.”

“What kind of shop is it?“

“I own the book store opposite the city hall.“

Jensen's mouth goes dry. He went to that store two weeks ago, buying a guidebook for fathers-to-be because Bennett and Lisa were expecting a baby in a few months – Jensen's first nephew or niece. He is looking forward to the arrival of the little one, but he can't help teasing his brother about sleepless nights and baby poop.

Suddenly, he remembers the tall guy arranging children's books. That was Jared – but a completely different Jared, always smiling, always available to answer any question, dallying with the female customers and patting the male ones on their backs; such a different picture to this nervous Jared who is unable to keep his hands still or look him in the eyes.

And he remembers how attracted he felt, but of course he didn't dare act on it.

“You're a bookseller? That's great, I like books. I like to read.“

Jared glances at him. “Really? What's your favorite book?“

Jensen hesitates for a moment. “If you won't get the word out... the Harry Potter books.“

Jared smiles, the first genuine smile Jensen had seen from him since he'd woken up here, and a sudden warmth expands in Jensen's chest. Here is a brief glimpse of Jared when not imprisoned in a bare basement – a happy and easygoing person.

He likes this other Jared so much better.

“I like Harry Potter too,“ Jared admits.

“Cool,“ Jensen replies.

“Yes,“ Jared says.

They fall silent, but this time it is neither awkward nor crushing, just thoughtful. Then Jared sighs.

“I hope the girls in the shop are okay. Usually, I can count on Felicia and Ruth, but this isn't a usual situation... they won't know what happened and will be worried... This is such a pile of shit.“

Sighing, Jared hides his face behind his hands.

Jensen rubs Jared's shoulder. “Hey, it will be okay. You'll see.“

Jared puts his hands down and looks at him for a long moment. “You're an incurable optimist,“ he says, more a statement than a question.

“Well,“ Jensen shrugs, “if I didn't trust we'll get out of here, I'd go crazy.“

Jared drops his gaze to his knees, rolling the shirt's seam between his long fingers. “I don't know how I came through this last week. I just... I've just been desperate and wanted it to be over. If the guy had come in and killed me – I'd've been okay with it.“

“You can't think that,“ Jensen says urgently. “You can't let the guy win. We'll come up with something to get out of here. And we _will_ get out of here!“

It's not a lie exactly. Jensen is not so sure about the outcome of this little 'adventure', but he has to stay strong – for both of their sakes.

They give each other tentative smiles, then Jared stares at his knees and Jensen at his hands.

Jensen's stomach rumbles. He hunches a bit to soothe it, which doesn't work, of course. Though he'd much rather he was able to walk and move freely than have food right now. The damn chain is too short to do more than a couple of steps – far too little to satisfy his urge to move.

Jared reacts to Jensen's hungry sounds. “He'll certainly bring some food soon.“

All of a sudden, Jared grows pale, and Jensen remembers what _food_ could possibly entail: drugged food, spiked water.

“We need to get out of here,“ he decides. Taking the chain tethering him in both hands, he pulls as hard as he can.

Jensen doesn't give in until he is breathless and his hands and arms hurt.

“It's so cold in here.“ Jared's remark takes Jensen by surprise. Turning to him, he sees that Jared is standing only an arm's length away, looking down on him.

Jared's arms are dangling casually. His eyes are dilated and almost black, like bottomless lakes. Bending over, he reaches out a hand that stops right before Jensen. His face is very close now, exuding cold and the scent of salt and lavender.

His voice sounds like cold steel when he starts speaking.

“You're so gorgeous.“

Jensen gapes at Jared open-mouthed, forgets to breathe. The fingers touch his neck, stroke a freezing path over his skin to his ear and stop at his cheek.

When Jared raises the other hand too, the spell holding Jensen in place is broken.

“Don't touch me!“ Jensen screams, drawing back as far as he can; his heart is in his mouth.

“I want to love you.“

Jared takes a step towards him. Jensen shrinks back even more, as if he wanted to dissolve into the wall behind him. He'd love nothing better than to do it.

Is Jared insane? Is he a psychopath or a killer, playing malicious games with his victims? Does he have a split personality?

_What's going on here?_

“What's going on here?“ Jensen screams, and again he forgets to breathe, panicking.

Jared is blinking confused. He is still stretching out his hand, hasn't moved. He doesn't seem to comprehend that Jensen doesn't want to be touched – why he is yelling at him. Both men are facing each other, shaking with cold, surrounded by a miasma of salt and lavender; then whatever battle Jared was fighting, he loses.

“You're mine.“

A couple of steps more brings Jared so close that Jensen can feel the cold that is shrouding him like a shell.

“You're mine, and I want to love you.“

As before, Jared's voice is inflexible steel, not revealing any emotion, unlike his black eyes, which are full of intense rage.

Defensively Jensen raises his hands, but Jared simply knocks them aside. Jensen stopped thinking; he is acting instinctively, and his instinct plainly says _fight_.

Jared wraps Jensen in his long arms and pushes his nose in Jensen's nape to inhale his scent.

Jensen hits him with both fists in his sides; unfortunately, Jared reacts by slumping and tightening his hold. The movement and a violent jerk twist Jensen's chained leg and his hip painfully. He yelps.

Jared is pinning him down on the ground with his legs, paying no attention to the fists that are striking him, and breathes from the back of Jensen's neck towards his chin.

He supports himself pushing down on Jensen's shoulders, restricting his movements even more, and says, “You smell so fucking good.“

Jared's nose is bleeding sluggishly.

“Get off of me! Don't touch me! Get off!” Jensen yells.

Since all of Jared's weight is on Jensen's shoulders, he can't lash out anymore; so he tries to throw the big man off by squirming and bucking – without success.

Jared's eyes are glistening black. The pupils are dilated to the point that there is no color visible. He gives Jensen a level look – no sign of excitement nor rage; a lifesize steel statue, smelling of lavender.

Then he cocks his head in order to kiss Jensen.

Horrified, Jensen sees Jared's lips draw closer. Facing away, he braces himself and pushes. He shoves and struggles until finally, he gets enough leverage to throw the other man off and aside.

He stands, staggering; his left hip is hurting and he can't put weight onto that leg, so he can't plant his feet firmly on the ground to kick. He has to rely on his hands and doesn't know if it is enough – doesn't know what he can rely on any more.

Jared, who seemed to be so nice, so desperate and so _normal_ , is a lunatic who wants to get into his pants.

Jensen strikes when Jared is rising from the ground and hits him right in the face.

Jared falls on his back and stays down, his head bowed. Jensen can't see his facial expression because of Jared's long hair and the dim light, but somehow he knows that there's nothing human there, just black, unfathomable eyes.

When Jared finally gets up, Jensen is on guard, trying to surmise his intention.

He doesn't even see the blow, it is so sudden, hitting the right side of his jaw.

He is thrown against the wall and then slumps to the ground; as a consequence, his already hurt leg gets distorted even more. The violent pain makes him cry out and brings tears to his eyes. He is breathing laboriously.

Jared looms over him for what seems an eternity, looking down on Jensen where he is lying on the ground, clenching his teeth in pain. He stifles his groans, waiting for the next blow to fall.

It doesn't happen. After a few moments, Jared draws back a couple of steps.

It is the clenching of Jared's fists that makes Jensen look up. Through his unshed tears he sees Jared tremble in every limb, his eyes grow wide, then roll back – and Jared sinks to the floor silently.

 

 

Jensen is resting against the wall, half leaning, half sitting. He is rubbing his hurting leg, but it doesn't help much. His jaw hurts too where he got hit twice at the same spot.

Like a careless discarded rag doll, Jared's tall figure is lying motionless on the floor, slow intakes of breath the only signs of life.

Jensen doesn't understand. He doesn't understand neither the situation nor Jared's behavior. It's as if Jared is two completely different people; one nice and kind, the other without inhibitions, violent, tolerating no dissent.

And Jared suddenly collapsing... is it a sign of illness? Jensen has heard of brain tumors changing people's personality, but to this extent? And so quickly, as if someone had flipped a switch...

Jensen is scared of what may happen when Jared wakes up. He doesn't want him to wake up at all, but he doesn't know how to prevent it. If he could reach him, he could strangle him to death, but for two things. First, the chain is too short, restricting his range of movement; second, Jensen couldn't kill another human being in cold blood. Probably, it could be classed as self-defense, but choking is so... personal.

Jensen imagines squeezing Jared's throat, his victim digging finger nails into his hands and slowly, his complexion turning dark.

_Oh fuck._

He could never do that – there must be another way.

Jared moves slowly, and Jensen holds his breath.

Jared sits up and looks around squinting, running his fingers through his hair.

“What happened?“ he asks in a thin voice. Then his gaze fastens on Jensen and his throat. “Oh God, you're bleeding.“

Jensen touches his throat. Looking at his fingertips, he can see faint traces of red. Jared's blood, when his nose was bleeding. When he was scenting Jensen and pushing his face against Jensen's neck.

Jensen raises his eyes, and Jared is just a couple of inches away. His eyes are back to that black, his face cold.

“You don't know how good red looks on you.“

The cruel game starts all over again. Jared pulls Jensen – despite his strenuous resistance – to the ground, straddles him and restrains his arms with his own strong hands. Licking the blood off of Jensen's throat, he kisses from one side to the other and right down to the neck of Jensen's t-shirt. Jared groans in apparent ecstasy.

Jensen, on the other hand, is disgusted.

He panics when he notices Jared's erection rubbing at his stomach. How is he supposed to get out of this?

Jared tries to take of Jensen's t-shirt, releasing Jensen's hands, and immediately, Jensen takes the opportunity offered. He punches Jared's face twice in close succession and simultaneously bucks hard.

Sure enough, his opponent falls off of him.

Breathing heavily, Jared doesn't immediately retaliate, giving Jensen a moment's hope.

It is short-lived. Jared recovers quickly and attacks Jensen, kicking him in his side.

“You're mine.“

A kick in Jensen's ribs.

“I want to love you.“

Another kick in his side.

“You're so gorgeous.“

A fourth kick doesn't happen. Jensen, curled up in pain and vainly trying to protect himself, dares to look up. He watches in disbelief as Jared's leg hovers in mid-air, his eyes rolling back – before he sinks to the ground once more, like a carelessly dropped rag doll.

 ❖❖❖

Since the attacks didn't cease, Jensen has received another two kicks and three punches into his chest and face a few hours later.

He lies panting on the mattress; his ribs are probably broken because breathing hurts like a bitch, and he thinks maybe his hip is dislocated.

Jared is again unconscious on the floor. A small puddle of blood under his cheek stems from another nosebleed that just stopped a short while ago.

They played this crazy game twice. Both times, Jensen fought back as best he could, and Jared passed out and collapsed after punching and kicking Jensen.

Jensen feels certain that he figured out the pattern: Jared strikes when Jensen fights back; and after striking, he turns himself off – he collapses with a nose bleed.

He can't see either reason or sense in this behavior, but there seem to be two Jareds: a violent one and one that wants to hinder the first one from attacking Jensen.

The split personality theory is becoming the most obvious conclusion.

On the other hand, there are some things confusing Jensen.

When Jared tries to get in Jensen's pants, he smells like salt and lavender, and his pupils are so dilated – as if he was drugged. Even his voice sounds completely different. And he is so _cold_ , both in his manner but also physically.

The worst thing, though, is his fixation with Jensen – the urge to kiss, the rubbing against Jensen's body, the erection.

 _Fuck_ , what would happen if Jensen wasn't able to fight back? If Jared could knock him out cold.

He doesn't want to imagine what could happen.

Jensen is bone-tired. It's probably in the dead of night, but he has no way to tell for sure.

He doesn't know how long he has been awake; he is tired and exhausted, but he doesn't allow himself to sleep because he needs to keep an eye on Jared, needs to be vigilant. He is too afraid what Jared might do if Jensen was to sleep.

He rubs his eyes. Sleep is definitely not possible.

And even while he talks himself into staying awake, he falls asleep.

 ❖❖❖

 He doesn't know how long he slept, but when he wakes, there is a chestnut-haired head resting on his chest and Jared's lanky limbs are wrapped around Jensen. Jensen's whole body stiffens with fear.

“I dreamed I hit you,“ Jared murmurs.

Jensen doesn't reply.

“I dreamed I also kicked you.“ Tilting his head back, Jared looks at him with tears in his eyes. “Please tell me that it was only a dream, please...“

Silently, Jensen shakes his head.

Hiding his face in Jensen's t-shirt, Jared sobs.

“Why would I do something like this? I never hit anyone in my life. Why would I hurt you? We're in this shit together, and I don't know any more what I did and what I dreamed.

“Jensen, please help me. Help me, please.“

Jensen almost feels sorry for him, but he can't afford sympathy. This big guy clinging to him and weeping into his t-shirt, could turn into violent Jared at any second – and maybe next time, he will be stronger than Jensen.

Jensen grabs Jared's arms and rights him. Looking straight in Jared's red-rimmed eyes, he says, “Jared, it's gonna be okay if you let us out. Release me and let us out, then I'll be able to help you.“

Jared looks at him confused and sniffles.

“But... how am I supposed to release you, I don't have a key...“ Then he grasps what Jensen is implying. “You think it was me.“

He backs away from Jensen and draws himself up to his full height.

“You're thinking I attacked you and locked you up and beat you up. It wasn't me! It was this tall guy. With a bald head. I've seen him bringing water and food. He brought... water... spiked with something...“

Jared stops, drops to his knees and grows pale, even paler than he already is.

“Oh God. He spiked the water. He... I'm... I can't remember what I did. Maybe I did lock you up and don't remember.“ Horrified, he slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Jared,“ Jensen says, trying to soothe him. “Listen. Calm down and listen to me. We need to think about it, figure out what's happening. Then everything will be okay.“

“Yeah,“ Jared whispers, dropping his hand. “We need to think..“

He scrutinizes Jensen with black eyes.

Smelling lavender, Jensen flinches back. _Not again_. He is at the end of his tether, has no more energy to struggle.

“You're so gorgeous,“ Jared says, approaching slowly. 

❖❖❖

This time, Jared snaps his wrist – easily, like it was a twig. Jensen howls with pain, but Jared doesn't let go. His nose is bleeding profusely, and he is still trying to unfasten Jensen's pants, muttering unintelligibly.

He is cold as ice.

Jared kneels on Jensen's left leg, clutching the broken wrist, while Jensen tries desperately to stop him undoing his jeans.

Distracted by the pain, Jensen is unable to think clearly. All he can do is fight on with grim determination with his one good hand

Suddenly, Jared seizes Jensen's t-shirt, yanking his torso up and shoving him to the ground with a vengeance. The back of Jensen's head impacts hard on the ground.

Through the very pretty stars clouding his vision, Jensen thinks it would have been a wise move to go to New York.

His defense weakens; somehow, his movements are too slow to hinder anybody to do anything.

Jensen's brains have, like, left the building, leaving his thoughts in a jumbled mess.

He feels Jared fiddling around with his clothes, but his vision turns gray at the fringes. Something wet is trickling onto his face; when he manages to lift his hand and touch his cheek and look at his fingertips, it is red. _Huh, blood_.

The taste of blood on his tongue – his or Jared's, he doesn't know, doesn't care. He is fading fast, but he is still aware enough to wonder at all the noise Jared is making. The crack of splintering wood, shouting and yelling, not Jared's voice – other voices, a heavy weight across his legs, then a face he recognizes thrust into his space before he allows the darkness to swallow him one more time.

His brother's face is the last thing Jensen sees before the dark takes him once more.

 _Bennett_...

 ❖❖❖

Jensen is sitting on the uncomfortable guest chair, both legs propped up on the bed in front of him. Actually, he is supposed to prop up only his left leg, but it is just more comfy this way. His own bed is two rooms down, but he is bored, so he is passing his time waiting for the inert form in the bed to wake up.

He has been sitting there since the doctors allowed him to get up, waiting patiently.

All things considered, it could have ended way worse – if Bennett had come just a little later.

Jensen's right wrist is broken and in a cast, a rib is bruised, and there are contusions all over his body. Thank God, his left hip and leg are neither dislocated nor broken, just needing a few days of rest to heal. More important, though, are the injuries he _didn't_ get.

Jared stirs. There is only an IV line leading to the back of his hand and most likely a catheter hidden under the sheets, though Jensen remembers the tubes and wires that surrounded him just a few days ago.

It makes him feel uneasy.

Jared's eye lids are fluttering, then opening slowly; his bleary look roams about the hospital room and eventually stops at Jensen's face.

“Hi. How're you?” Jensen says.

Jared gives him a weak smile, closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

 ❖❖❖

 A couple of hours later, Jared wakes up again.

Jensen is still in the chair, feet propped up, almost asleep. Perceiving the movement in the bed though, he is wide awake immediately.

“Hello,” he rasps, then clears his throat. “Hello,” he tries again, and this time, his voice sounds better.

Jared's brown eyes are looking at him dazedly. “Uhm... hello?” he says warily.

Putting his feet on the ground and sitting upright, Jensen makes sure that his left leg is stretched out because this way, his knee hurts less. He pulls up the chair and puts his hands on the bed.

“How are you?” he asks.

“I don't know... pretty good, I think. I have a headache, but... I'm quite good. What happened, how are you?”

“That's the concussion. You hit your head pretty hard on the floor. You know what happened?” Jensen is literally beaming. “Bennett happened. I told you he'd find us, and he found us.

“When the guy snatched me, I just had texted Bennett. Then I lost my phone on the parking lot, he tracked and found it there. That was the first trace he had. He can tell you the rest of the story later; you have to talk with him and his colleagues in any case.”

“The guy... so he's real, he's not a figment of my imagination...” Jared's voice tapers off in thoughts.

“Listen,” Jensen says, fidgeting uneasily on his chair, “I need to apologize. I'm sorry I took you for the madman. You-”

Jared interrupts him. “No need to apologize. Probably, I'd have thought the same in a reversed situation. We were both under stress... and I still can't remember half of what happened. It may well be that...”

“Bullshit. You're not any kind of pervert.” Jensen's firm conviction seems to amaze Jared. “That guy, Michael Rosenbaum, went absolutely psycho. In fact, he drugged you; they found a real cocktail of drugs in your blood. And then he made you play his pervert game with using hypnosis or voodoo or some other fucked-up shit.”

Jared's eyes start to tear up. “Jesus, what did I do.”

“Nothing. You're not the kind of guy that gets violent, and every time Rosenbaum's remote control made you strike, you put up resistance.”

“How... resistance? I broke your arm and kicked you and...” Jared's sobs.

“You didn't.” In affirmation, Jensen puts a hand on Jared's arm. “You lost consciousness every time to prevent worse from happening. As far as I'm concerned, it was Rosenbaum, who battered me. That was what I told Bennett and his fellow officers – that Rosenbaum beat me and knocked you out.”

Jared is staring at him. Then he lifts his hand and pulls Jensen's t-shirt up. Due to his bruised rib, Jensen is wearing bandages, and the dark contusions stand out against his fair skin.

“That was me! Nobody else but me! I did this, I-”

“Jared!” Jensen's voice is sharp and powerful in the small room. “It wasn't you. You'd never do this in your right mind, I know it. But you've been, I don't know... sleep walking. Or hypnotized or such. You can't be blamed, either by me or anybody else, or, above all, by yourself.”

Jared turns away from him, burying himself in the pillows, his face in his hands, crying himself to sleep.

 ❖❖❖

 Later, the doctor examines Jared; he is pleased with his patient's recovery and says he can be released in a few days. After he left, Jensen limps into the room, cautiously balancing two cups of coffee due to his plastered arm; he was waiting for the coast to be clear.

“Coffee?” he asks, “this is black; if you want cream or sugar, I'll gladly fetch some.”

“No, it's fine. Thank you,” Jared says, reaching out his hand.

Jensen is hesitating. “Wait a sec. Are you allowed?”

Jared beckons impatiently. “Don't care. Give it to me.”

“I'm not allowed either. Don't care.” Jensen grins, handing Jared one of the cups. He sits down on the chair, groaning and grumbling, keeping his leg stretched

They busy themselves with their drinks, blow on them, take a sip and gaze at the cups.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Jared suddenly breaks the silence. “You don't have a reason, after all that happened.”

Jensen sighs. “Jared, for the last time – it wasn't you. I take pride in being a good judge of character, and the other week, I saw you in your shop. You're a nice guy. Even under the influence of hypnosis or voodoo or whatever that was, you tried to resist and prevent worse. I'm not scared you'll go wild suddenly, running amok. I'm not scared of you. I know that you're a good guy.”

He points to the bouquets that are all over the room.

“And others know that too. Otherwise, they wouldn't have visited while you were unconscious. Even the mayor has been here.”

“Yeah,” Jared replies, “we always go for a run together. And he bought the Harry Potter books from my shop.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, that disappears almost instantly though.

“He painted my back.”

“What?”

“He painted on my back with a black marker.”

“Show me.”

Jared hesitates, then sits up slowly and gingerly, pulling up the hospital gown in his back. Jensen looks and turns red with rage.

“The bastard. The crazy asshole. If he wasn't dead already, I'd kill him myself.”

Unconsciously, he traces the symbols on Jared's back, that are still quite visible on the pale skin, and doesn't notice how Jared's body stiffens.

“That's no random doodle. He did this with a purpose in his sick brain.”

Jensen pulls the gown down and pats Jared's shoulder.

“After two showers, that shit is gone,” he says, pointedly cheerfully. He eases into the chair, and both men attend to their coffees.

After a few minutes of silence, Jensen blurts out, “Jared... did he... hmm... uhm, assault you?”

Jared stares blankly at him until he understands what Jensen is insinuating. Lowering his head, he talks into his cup of coffee.

“No, everything's fine. He just beat me up, drugged me and locked me up for a week.”

“Thank God.” Jensen is so relieved that he only notices a few seconds delayed what exactly he said. “Uh, I mean, thank God it's nothing worse.”

“Yeah,” Jared speaks to his cup, “thank God.”

 ❖❖❖

 Although Jensen had been released yesterday, he still hangs out in Jared's room the whole day, plays cards with him, gets coffee secretly and talks about innocuous subjects. Both give a wide berth to a certain subject.

Jensen doesn't want to go home; his apartment seems to be oddly strange – maybe it is because he didn't even put away all of his stuff. He enjoys Jared's company and is afraid he won't see him again when Jared is released too. He certainly could buy a book now and again, but he could never buy so many books to ease the urge of being with Jared.

He is entering the room with another supply of coffee when Jared waves at him with a colorful card.

“Chad sent me a card.” Jared is grinning so hard, he bears a striking resemblance to the Cheshire cat. “Look, you can fold it out. A home made pop-up card, it's awesome.”

Decidedly unblinking, Jensen shrugs a shoulder.

“That's nothing. Just wait until my cast is removed, then I'll design cards that will make you keel over for real.”

Jared looks at him with his head tilted. “Of course.” Then his tone of voice gets serious. “Say, how will you work with that thing on your arm?”

Jensen eases into his usual seat, propping his feet on Jared's bed as always.

“Next week, I'll begin as a kind of counselor at Chad's until the cast is gone. I can't work properly with this arm, but thank God, I didn't break my mouth so I still can tell him what I think of his designs.”

Jared lowers himself down on the bed and looks up to the ceiling.

“God, how glad I'll be when I get out of here tomorrow. Felicia's keeping me up to date and she says everything's alright. But I still want to return to my shop.”

“You miss it, don't you?”

Jared is looking earnestly at Jensen. “You don't know how satisfying it is to be surrounded entirely by books, and there's a whole new world hidden behind each cover. It's just great.”

“I know that feeling, when I see my designs in the papers or on a billboard. That's great, yeah.”

Jared sighs. “It's high time to return to my shop.”

“Listen,” Jensen says, putting his feet back on the ground and clasping his hands nervously. “If you don't mind, I'd like to take you home tomorrow. Make sure of your safe return home. Bennett would drive us, I can't myself.”

He waves his plastered arm.

Jared's eyes grow wide. “That would be... really awesome. Sure. Thank you.”

“Great,” Jensen smiles happily

The way they met was very unconventional, but he is sure it is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

 

~fin~

 


End file.
